The Protector
by Anastasia The Goddess of Drama
Summary: From a very young age Nikita was taught to be a spy, to kill twenty-seven ways, and to be seen but never remembered. Nikita was taught to be the very Protector of Illea from the Northern and Southern Rebels. With Maxon's Selection playing out, King Clarkson pressures her more to find out the secrets of both rebels. *Follows Canon*
1. Prologue

Nikita understood the importance of being silent, to not be heard or seen. She knew to keep her head down and her mouth shut, to observe without being suspected. To blend in with the crowd and to collect information, whisper to the enemy the secrets of those who trusted her.

Be the double spy that she was taught to be.

She trailed behind the Queen and stood side by side with the Rebels and later the Extremists. Her job was never done, and she never expected it to be. Nikita's heritage was of great importance something that nobody knew just yet. For now, she would keep it all a secret and work indigently for the kingdom.

For Illea.

It was her birthright.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

She hummed softly as she rubbed the Queen's hands. Her fingers slipping through the Queen's, massaging her knuckles and each individual finger to get rid of the aching pain that Her Majesty tried not to complain about. Not that she minded at all, she, after all, lived to serve the Queen and the rest of the Monarch of Illea.

"Tell me, Ni, how long will you be staying here?" She asked and Nikita inwardly wince but answered coolly.

"Not for long Your Majesty, King Clarkson thinks its best that adventure out again to secure more information."

"But you've just got back home and—"

"This isn't my home, Your Majesty. This is merely a workplace where I honorably serve you, King Clarkson, Prince Maxon, and whoever he chooses to be his bride."

The words roll off Nikita's tongue automatically, trained and emotionless. It's a phrase that she has been repeating her entire life. King Clarkson made sure at a young age that Nikita didn't feel any sort of attachment to Queen Amberly.

Her mother.

Though it seemed rather cruel to force to act like her child was nothing to her, when in fact that very child was constantly at her side watching her and protecting her, when it should be the other way around. But it was Nikita and Queen Amberly's reality and it was something that had to be deemed normal. Nikita started to hum again as she attempted disparate the tension as she moved from her task of massaging Queen Amberly's hands to massaging her temples.

When Nikita returned to the palace she did two things during her stay which was report to King Clarkson about the way the castes where working and to become Queen Amberly's maid and protector. It was an easy thing to do, to slip in and out of exist without a person noticing, something that Nikita had been taught to do. The only one to notice was Queen Amberly because she was constantly worrying about her youngest child safety.

Nikita glanced up at the mirror and wondered for not the first time, how nobody expected anything when they did catch her and Queen Amberly together.

They both had olive skin, dark brown hair, and similar face features the only difference was in their eyes and the fact that Nikita had freckles that covered her shoulders. Nikita's eyes were bright blue that were cold and hard, there have never been a time that those blue eyes lit with uncontained joy.

"I will be meeting with King Clarkson for my next assignment; in the meanwhile I would like background info on each girl that will be in the Selection. Not only that but videos of them coming here and anything else that I can't remember." Nikita said looking away from the mirror.

"Of course, which Rebels are you meeting with?" Amberly asked.

"With any luck the Northern ones," Nikita sighed.

Though Nikita seriously doubted that King Clarkson would want her to go check on the Northerns, they weren't trying to end the Royal line. The Southerns were much more dangerous and unpredictable but a little information was better than none. It would be trickier to become a Southern since they were so harsh and picky to just let anybody in. Of course, King Clarkson would have that problem solved. An inward shiver ran down her spine and Nikita resisted the urge to react to it.

"Nikita?"

Nikita blinked once and forced a smile, after all she was good at pretending.

"It's nothing that you have to worry about Your Majesty." Nikita lied.

* * *

King Clarkson hated Nikita's very existence and he didn't particular hide it when they were alone. She was used to it by now the only one to share this experience was Prince Maxon sometimes. Thankfully he was in a good mood, Nikita suspected that it had to do with this upcoming Selection, and he greeted her with a short nod. Nikita return it and sat in the chair across his desk, after he told her it was okay.

"I get right to the point; The Southerns are our main problem that we must get rid of. The only way to do that is to place you there."

"And how would we do that, Your Majesty?" She asked, even though she knew the answer.

He looked up from his papers and gave her a cruel smile that she hated. Nikita had an idea on what he was going to suggest and go forward with, it was ridiculous question asking for a ridiculous answer.

"Now, Nikita, you know as well as I do what _I_ plan to do." Clarkson said with a smirk.

"Yes, that was a stupid question on my part." Nikita admitted grudgingly.

He leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking. "You'll go tomorrow, dress as if you are a royal servant, like that maid dress you have on, and I handle the rest."

Nikita nod once. "If that's all, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, that is all, now leave my presence."

* * *

Nikita grunted as she was hit in the stomach taking the breathe out of her. Under the orders of the King, a group of guards were to beat her accordingly. They kicked her, punch her, slung her around a couple of times, and one even pulled her hair so hard that she felt strands being ripped for her scalp. They were then supposed to drop her off approximately next to the Southerns, so that they could find and take pity on her and have her join them.

Of course, King Clarkson couldn't do this himself. Her tainted blood would have ruined his clothes and those were perfectly tailored to fit him personally. Nikita saw that as an excuse of him being a coward. If only his so called 'faithful' subjects could see what a true monster he was, if only her mother—

If only Queen Amberly could see what he truly was.

"Get up," One of the guards hissed in her ear.

 _How?_ Nikita wondered darkly.

The guards made sure that she was all battered and abuse, her legs sore from the smooth hard wood they used to hit her with. Nikita was glad that they were numb instead of broken, or she would have had a worse punishment than this.

When Nikita made no move to get up, two other guards lifted her up roughly and threw her into the back of the van. She hit her head against the metal wall and winced as her head began to ache. But she soldier through it for her country, for Prince Maxon, and Queen Amberly.

Never King Clarkson.


End file.
